Perspective
by fateblurred
Summary: Kimbley & Mustang on the battlefield that was Ishbal.


Title: Perspective

Characters: Mustang & Kimbley

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 762

Summary: Roy & Kimbley circa Ishbal. Alchemy at work.

Hands were laid upon the ground on the outskirts of the city of Ishbal as Kimbley crouched, gathering the energy beneath his hands. His fingers tingled as ground gave way to elements, and elements gave way to energy. The force that surged through the changed earth rushed forth toward the low buildings, cracking foundations, shattering walls that toppled noisily down to the earth. There were a few cries from townspeople who hadn't yet escaped, and rebel soldiers caught in their hiding places by the blast.

Kimbley stood back, hands on his hips as he admired his handiwork, a smirk curling up the corner of his lips. "You're proud of this?" called the familiar voice behind him.

The alchemist turned to view the approaching form of Roy Mustang, his expression darkened by his disgust. "You're enjoying this," Roy stated as he stood a few feet away, "the murder of innocent people."

Kimbley's expression managed to become even more smug. "I am a master of my kind of alchemy. There is nothing wrong with reveling in that to a degree."

Roy's dark eyes burned with emotion. "Reveling in murder?"

The patronizing expression that Kimbley wore next tempted Roy to snap his fingers and light the arrogant man aflame. "The last time I checked, Mustang, we were on a battlefield. There's no such _thing _as murder on a battlefield."

"You're wrong," Roy muttered more to himself than to Kimbley, who had stepped away to circle around a nearby cluster of buildings that were still standing. Roy reluctantly moved closer to the damaged structures. His orders were the same as Kimbley's, but the weight of them was harder for him to bear. His gaze dropped from the scene of destruction down to his gloves. Was this what he'd made these for? To destroy cities full of civilians?

"Bastard," came a voice to Roy's left. His eyes fell upon a young man who had stumbled from behind a building, clutching at his wounded left arm. The hand that clutched at the ruined limb held a knife. The Ishbalan's eyes were full of dark emotion. He staggered toward Roy, picking up momentum as he gained the courage to do what he thought he must.

Having doubled back, Kimbley saw the man approaching Mustang, who stood transfixed by indecision. Why wasn't he moving? Kimbley's brand of alchemy wasn't meant for precision. A blast from him enhanced by red stone would end the lives of both men.

The knife glinted in the harsh sunlight as the young man raised the blade. "Bastard!" he cried, not caring if his life would end, only wanting vengeance for those that lay dead behind the ruined building, felled by falling stone.

Willing his body to move, Roy threw his arm forward as he snapped, fabric shifting against fabric, the spark igniting the column of air that he sent toward the man. A harsh cry as the youth was set alight, the building behind him igniting. Soon, red stone spread the power of the alchemist's flame farther through the city than it would have ever gone alone. Roy turned from the sight of the Ishbalan falling to his knees, screaming as his body was overcome by fire.

Angry, Kimbley approached to glare at Roy, who didn't meet his gaze. "Do you _want_ to die, Mustang? Is that what this is about? But more importantly, do you want those under your command to die? Because that's what your inaction could lead to." Stepping closer, Kimbley gestured toward the burning structures. "To those people, you are an enemy. They'll treat you like one. It's far too late for sentiments or second thoughts."

His posture rigid, Roy clenched his hand into a tight fist, his eyes downcast. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. Alchemy was intended to serve the people, but somehow this didn't include _all _people.

Feeling the weight of a hand on his shoulder, Roy raised his eyes to look up into amber. "If you are going to take someone's life," Kimbley told him, "look into their eyes as you do it. Look at what you've wrought. Have at least that much consideration for what you've taken, you who _says_ that he cares so much." Then he turned to wander off, seeking an area of the city that hadn't yet fallen to the power of alchemy.

For a moment, Roy watched Kimbley's retreating form, the crackling of burning wood in his ears and the odor of billowing smoke in his nostrils. Then he turned, his expression unreadable as he watched the buildings burn.

End


End file.
